Come ye borrowed; come ye blue;
Come ye old and come ye new;
Come ye bold and young and true;
Come with the key trusted to you.
Six white veils, six white-clad brides;
Six bells tolling and twelve blank eyes;
Twelve blank eyes, all staring at the door,
Hopes, dreams, wishes all ashes on the floor.
Twelve slippered feet, twelve reaching hands
Begging you to understand-
Six sets of lips turned blue and cold;
Six brides gone before they're old.
Oh, that Bluebeard! Oh, the shame!
Six dead brides under his name!
The man that he'd turn out to be?
And you the last, the one that found
Six still clad in bridal gowns,
What did you think, standing there,
Pinned beneath six blank-eyed stares?
Was your first thought to cry for help?
Or were you cynical; did you think, 'Well,
I've made it further than they ever got;
I'll just turn the key back in its lock;
I'll be fine; I'll close the door;
Forget the blood upon the floor;
Like it never got the best of me?'
Did you think that you'd turn back the clock?
Just close the door and make it stop?
(You scrubbed and scrubbed, but the bloody key
Was determined not to let you free.)
Or did you hope that it was all a dream
Whilst holding back an awful scream?
(Call your sister; plot and plot;
Get out before you join their lot.)
You the last, the one that found
Six clad still in bridal gowns;
As you stand above their lonely graves...
Why are you the one that's saved?
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